Unfurled
by Rebelchickie
Summary: They say the things that are worth the most you have to fight for. But Harry Potter was done fighting. He had defeated a mad-man, watched friends and family die, and developed a deathly disease. He didn't have any more fight left in him. But what if his salvation came in the form of his worst enemy? Suffering or Forgiveness. Love or Hate. Trapped inside or finally...Unfurled.
1. Chapter 1-Rejection of Every Kind

There were things in life that were simple. Not easy, per say, but things that just came naturally, without much thought. For Harry, there was Quidditch. There was gardening, a small reminder of his childhood, yet something he refused to let be tainted by negative memories. There was making tea, Harry was very good at that. Then there was not feeling.

Harry excelled at that. After all the stress, all the fighting, the battles, the funerals, the trials. He didn't even have to try, it just happened. It's like his brain was on, forcing his body to move, his mouth to speak, his heart to beat, but he couldn't feel anything any longer. And it was so _**simple.**_

But Harry was not doing any of those things. He was looking at the _sister_ of his _best friend_ and his girlfriend of a year and a half, and telling her he didn't think he could be with her anymore. This was definitely much harder.

"YOU DON'T JUST STOP LOVING SOMEONE HARRY! I HAVE BEEN WITH YOU THROUGH HELL, AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO ACT LIKE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT WAS LIKE?! I FOUGHT IN THE BATTLE, I WAS THE ONE IN SCHOOL WHILE YOU HERMIONE AND RON WERE FROLICKING IN THE FORESTS LOOKING FOR PIECES OF A DERANGED MADMANS SOUL! ME! I KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE." Ginny bellowed, her face nearly the color of her hair. She looked at the empty expression on Harry's face, and seemed to calm down a bit. "We both lost people. I lost my brother Harry, you couldn't possibly say that I don't know what it's like."

Harry looked at her, in all of her wild beauty, but it just no longer touched him like it used to do. Nothing did anymore. He was nothing more than a husk of a person, trying to find his way in the world.

"The fact that you are even trying to say that you know what I am going through does nothing more than prove to me that you really have no idea. I would dare you to find someone that hasn't lost someone during Voldemort's reign of terror," he received a wince at the blatant use of His name. "So using that argument is pretty counterproductive. Besides, do you really think my hunt for Horacrux's was simply frolicking in the woods with my two best mates?"

"No, it entailed much more filthy details, like your torrid love affair with your 'supposed' best friend! Don't look so shocked. You think anyone is stupid enough to believe that you and Hermione just talked and ate biscuits after Ron left. The way you look at each other is enough proof, so no use in denying it, Potter." She spit his name out like it was toxic, and for the first time in quiet awhile, Harry felt anger brew within him.

"You don't know anything. You don't know what it was like in those forests, hungry, scared, and clueless. You don't know how hard it was to hold onto sanity when you felt constant fear of being caught and tormented in ways that could make you cry just by hearing. You don't know what it was like living with pure evil around your neck. Hermione was all I had, and we never were anything more than friends, but I would do anything for her. You have no clue, so I would recommend shutting the hell up. We are over. We have been done since after the war. Too much has changed and we are two different people who both need to find identities for themselves before they even consider getting into a relationship. We both need to heal, Gin, and not even you can argue me on that one. The way you see me, it's not real. You have this picture of how I am, of who I am, and it's just that; a picture. All you are seeing is that story told to you as a little girl about how I defeated Voldemort as a small child, only to resurface from nowhere 10 years later, humble, but ready to defeat the Dark Lord all over again. And even though you know me more as a person, that still taints your view of me. Look at me." Harry insisted, lifting her chin to see the blotchy face, streaked with tears, and trembling lips. "Any man will be lucky to have you. That person just isn't me. I'll always love you, Gin, but not like that. I hope one day you can forgive me for that."

Her hand across his face wasn't a shock.

"Fuck you, Harry Potter. Get off your high FUCKING HORSE. You say everyone has lost someone, but I think out of everyone, you lost the least! You didn't even fucking KNOW your parents! Ever since Cedric died, you have just been throwing this 'I have experienced more than you' attitude around, and I'm sick of it. Everyone else is dealing with things, and everyone else is moving on but you are just stuck here, lost in your own pity party. I hope to god you finally see the only reason you aren't healing; you are just trying to get as much pity as possible. You make me sick, Harry, and I never want to see you again." She screamed at him.

He was glad in this moment that that emptiness had settled in his chest again, and those words, cruel words they were, didn't make his heart clench like they should have. Glad because this was much easier than the truth, and no one would argue that with him.

She stormed out of his house, leaving it dreary and grey as it had been before. Harry watched the door, knowing that he should be feeling something, but finding nothing. He eventually turned, his movements slow, and he let the glamor's slip away, revealing what he had become. Revealing _**who**_ he had become.

"This is for the best." He said to himself as he took in his reflection. "No one will love you like this."

And so the raven haired boy turned, and without another sound, disappeared further into the house.

/

Harry had known that this wouldn't be pretty. He knew that the second he showed up at the train station, he would deal with the wrath of the Weasleys. You couldn't break their only daughter's heart without some form of wrath.

Harry just learned that Ginny must have learned where to hit from Ron.

His best friend's fist flew towards his face, and he knew he would have no problems using magic to avoid impact, but somewhere inside him, he knew that Ron needed to get this out of his way before they could go on being friends.

That is if he even wanted to be his friend anymore.

"YOU FUCKING DICK! WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" Ron seethed, before his father grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Most of the Weasleys were giving him 'the look.' The 'how could you' look. He had seen it from his dead classmate's parents, so one could say that he knew it pretty well. Ginny was clinging to her mother, her eyes rimmed red with sorrow and fury lining her face. Harry turned away.

Hermione reached out towards him, her eyes darting between Harry and her boyfriend, before Harry subtly shook his head. She looked dejected, but dropped her arms, and turned her focus on getting Ron to stop hurling insults Harry's way. He couldn't even hear them, he just picked himself up off the ground, wiping away the blood from his lips, and regathering his things, his mind a buzz.

That was when he felt it. Right when he had started towards the train, the Weasleys and Hermione just out of sight, he felt that tingling rush down his spine, halting any movement. He slowly, painstaking slowly turned his head.

That was when he saw him. Merlin, how beautiful he looked, his very presence demanding an audience that everyone was so willing to give him. His hair hung in loose waves around his face, bringing out the sharpness in his cheeks, making you want to brush it back from those endless grey eyes. His lips were formed in the trademark scowl, and Harry would throw himself in front of the train right in front of them just to see him smile for a single second.

His mother was fussing around him, more life in her frame then when he had last seen her at her husband's trial. She had wrote him a few days after and thanked him for testifying in favor of Lucius, earning him a shorter sentence then the rest of Voldemort's followers had gotten, and she felt as though she owed him. She didn't owe him anything. She had given birth to the most beautiful creature that Harry had ever seen. He had to stop himself from thanking _her._

But the younger Malfoy didn't even spare him a glance. His mother politely smiled at him, and Harry hoped that the expression on his face wasn't displaying just how horrible he felt inside from being unacknowledged.

Harry closed his eyes, reining in those _god awful_ emotions, and thinking of menial things until he felt the familiar sense of emptiness. It was only then that he picked up his things and found a place to sit on the train.

/

Hermione's shoulder was a comfortable weight against his. It was familiar, something he had felt thousands of times, and yet it always made him feel a little less empty.

"Something happened and you won't tell me, will you?" she whispered, her frizzy hair surprisingly soft against his cheek.

Harry just barely shook his head.

"You do a good job for the most part. Of hiding it, I mean. If I didn't know you as well as I do I would think that you were just recovering, but this is something new entirely.

He nodded.

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Ten doesn't even begin to describe it," he whispered back, closing his eyes.

She just grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his in an attempt to comfort him.

"No matter what, you know I love you right? Doesn't matter if the Weasley's won't talk to you since you broke up with Ginny. I'll be here no matter what. We promised. Plus, I think that the relationship was doomed from the start. She had those starry eyes. Not like the cute ones, like the 'I'm dating someone more important than you.' I think everyone knew it was just a matter of time." Hermione said, matter-of-factly.

Harry snorted, "I think that was one of the reasons I was invited into the family. I think that was what they had hoped all along. I mean, everyone seemed to try to push us together as much as possible. Not that she isn't great, and funny, and beautiful and that she won't make someone so happy one day, that person just isn't me. It never was and it's better to figure that out now than be married and realize that you don't love each other like married couples are supposed to. Plus, she made this jab about how I haven't lost as much as others have, and that we were fucking behind Ron's back while we were in the forest." He gives her a playful smirk, one that doesn't meet his eyes but he knows it makes her happier. She nudges against him, giggling lightly.

"I guess most people don't understand our relationship. People don't really know what it was like going through the things we did. I think they put us on this pedestal, and they forget that we were just kids. I feel like I'm not nineteen, I feel like I'm at least a thousand." Hermione whispers.

Harry nods, and they stay like that for a majority of the train ride, both lost in completely different trains of thought. One, wondering about school and how they will survive being in a place that is riddled with memories of suffering and violence and death.

The other going through all the things he had done to never deserve the tall blonde that he wanted so badly that he physically ached.

/

Harry didn't plan on ever telling his friends about the _things._

He always felt like talking about the _things_ made them much more real, and even in his state, thinking about them made him feel queasy. It was much easier to just hate himself and let them kill him, rather than letting everyone know that he was weak.

He would die young. Oh well, Hermione would make sure that whatever story they put out wasn't the truth. She wouldn't let the world know that that piece of Voldemort's soul had become a part of him. She wouldn't let them know that when Harry died, that piece of Voldemort soul was ripped out of him, causing cracks in his magical core. She wouldn't let them know that the core had already been tainted, and now harry had taken to _magically draining_ that would kill him.

What she would never know is that when that had happened, a cure had been made.

She would never know that his 'death' (though he did actually die, he just came back) woke up something inside him.

Harry would learn that the night after Voldemort's defeat when he came into a late creature inheritance.

That's the beautiful things about nature. For every reaction, there is an opposite reaction. It is rare for there to be no solution to a problem. To Harry's body, activating this dormant creature blood would mean Harry could find his mate.

If Harry found his mate, that meant that their magical cores would fuse, fixing the 'leak' and meaning Harry would be able to live. But after everything, Harry knew that nothing could ever be that simple in his life. And when he showed up to Draco's trial, and everything inside him was screaming to not only be with him, but _**submit**_ to him, he knew he was fucked to a painful death while he watched the person who was supposed to be perfect for him marry some pureblood princess and never spare him another thought.

And god, it was one of those few things that actually _hurt._ That was the beauty of Draco, well, besides his physique. When he was around Draco, he was allowed to feel. Even if those feelings hurt. Even if he knew that Draco was straight and would never want him. Even if he knew the reason why he looked the way he did without his glamour's was because of him. Even if the whole situation was so fucked up it made Harry's head spin and a gut-wrenching nausea to overtake his stomach.

Harry would adore everything about him until his final breath and there was nothing he could do or say to taint that.

/

Ron's loud footsteps and his flinging of the door open are what broke Hermione and Harry out of the bubble of comfort they had made. Ron didn't even spare Harry a glance as he looked at his girlfriend with apologetic eyes.

"'Mione will you come sit with me for the rest of the trip. Everyone is asking for you." He pleaded. Harry didn't even need to glance over to see Hermione rolling her eyes.

"You punched Harry in the face, Ron, I would rather not look at you for the time being."

"He hurt Ginny! You can't honestly be taking his side this time!" Ron seethed, still trying to pretend that Harry wasn't sitting there.

"You don't think it was hard for him! He was going with what his heart wanted, you can't shame someone for that! If he wasn't happy, then that was the right decision." Hermione defended.

He didn't mention that his heart wanted to desperately lick every inch of skin on Draco Malfoy's body, he figured that would be a tad bit inappropriate, not to mention he **did** just break up with his best mate's sister, so he probably shouldn't go about the business of rubbing salt in fresh wounds.

"Why are you always on his side? Why Hermione? You defend him like he is innocent when he is obviously in love with you! Did you lie to me when you said there was nothing between you two after I left? Because it is really starting to seem like there was more going on."

It got silent after those words were spoken. That deadly, angry kind, and Harry was able to grab onto Hermione's elbow before she flew forward.

"You fucking left US, and you have the audacity to say that I am lying about what happened when you weren't there! You should have never left! You should have stayed, but you were too much of a fucking coward! And I'm defending Harry because he has been through more than you could ever imagine! You have lived a great life with a family who loves you, and everyone lost someone in the war, and you just pretend like your losses are worse than everyone else's! Same as Ginny! You said the same thing to Harry! He deserves to be happy! He deserves to be loved, and if she isn't the one then that is just the end of that. There is nothing more to be said. So go back and sit with your friends, I'm going to stay here until you learn to GROW THE FUCK UP Ronald Weasley. Don't bother coming back if you haven't.

It was hard thing to strike a Weasley speechless, but Hermione had managed too. His face went from bright red, to deathly white.

"'Mione please don't do this..." Ron begged, once he seemed to get a hold of himself.

"Don't. Just leave. Come back when you have some common sense." She stated firmly. He stared at her for a second, eyes wide, and his eyes darted to Harry's for the first time and he looked like he expected him to say something. He just motioned with his eyes to leave, and Ron stared at him for another second before he finally left. The second the door clicked Hermione was in tears.

"He just doesn't get it. And I want to hate him for not getting it." Hermione sobbed.

"No one ever does. No matter how close you are to them, they just can't ever seem to understand that things will never go back to the way things used to be. We have to find our new normal, not keep pretending that things are okay. Because they aren't. They never will be." Harry said, his voice hollow in a way that started Hermione out of her sadness.

"Harry…. Your secret is a bad one, isn't it?" she whispers, fear evident in her voice. He gave her a sad smile.

"They always are. Enough about that though, we need to get changed into our school robes." Harry looked at Hermione, with her watery eyes, trembling lips, and streaked cheeks. He saw how her hands were almost violently shaking. He knew that she was in no shape to do anything. He dug in her purse for her robes, taking them out and shrugging her out of her jacket.

"Come one, arms out," he said in a chirpy voice that he knew she needed to hear. He places her robes on her, adjusting her tie to be neat like she liked. He missed the red and gold that used to display his colors proudly, but there were so few back to finish their last year that they decided that they got their own dorms, solely for their grade. Harry knew it was because his grade had been some of the key players in the War. They were hesitant to place them with the rest of the school because they didn't quite think they were…functioning. That meant no more Houses for the group.

Harry agreed.

Every one of his friends had 'attacks.' I guess it wasn't so much that they had attacks, more like they relived them. And it was one of those things that just happened, no one could control it.

So yes, it might suck they were separated, but at least they weren't dead.

He bent down to the floor, taking her shoes off and putting her new ones on, just as he heard the door to the compartment open. He didn't have to turn to know who it was. Draco walked into the compartment, his eyes sweeping along Harry and what he was doing, before a sneer placed itself on his face.

"Thought you were dating the Weaslette, Granger, didn't think you had it in you to get two at once." Draco drawled, and as much as Harry wanted to tell him to bugger off, every word out of his mouth sounded like music. Harry wanted to listen to him talk for the rest of his life.

"Shut it, Malfoy. I'm in no mood to deal with your shit today." Hermione all but growled. Draco opened his beautiful mouth to say something most definitely insulting, but he seemed to remember that Hermione did have a mean right hook (as did all the people around Harry, he was staring to realize), and thankfully kept his mouth shut. But instead of proceeding through the train cars, he plopped himself down, staring down at Harry and Hermione. Harry was practically preening at his mate's attention, but it just made it all that more difficult to keep his glamour's intact when the creature blood inside him was bursting with the need to show its mate how beautiful and submissive it was.

Merlin, why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't Harry just finish school and lock himself in his house until he died?

"So, do tell how long the affair has been going on? I did see the little Weaslette surrounded by her friends and cooing her like a small animal. And the Weasel stormed past me and bumped into me rather violently. It was very rude." Draco drawled. The sound of someone being a sarcastic git shouldn't be attractive and Harry definitely shouldn't be getting hard over it, but here he was.

"We aren't together! Why can't you just leave me alone? Leave Harry alone? We have more important issues to deal with rather than you, you know." Hermione snapped.

"Voldemort is dead, what could be soooo important? Are you and Potter already getting yourself in trouble….wait…don't tell me you broke up with the Weaslette?" Draco concluded, sounding positively gleeful.

Harry just averted his eyes, slowly standing up to his short height and letting out a long breathe.

"Harry had every right to do it." Hermione defended him, her face starting to show puzzlement at Harry's lack of response to Malfoys teasing.

"Why did you do it, huh, Potter? Finally realize she was a bit too poor and too….redheaded? Was it someone else? Or did you finally realize how bent you are?" Malfoy questioned, the beginnings of a smirk creeping onto his cupid bow lips.

Harry's entire body stiffened and the whole car got eerily quiet.

"Harry….you aren't, are you?" Hermione questioned, her voice hesitant and fragile, like she was talking to a small child.

Harry turned his head towards the window and away from their judgmental glares. How could he tell them that he wasn't really gay, just gay for the man next to him? How could he tell them that he was dying because the other man wanted a woman, and had tried to make Harry into one? How could he tell them that Harry couldn't look at himself naked without knowing just how much of Draco's he was, the long tattoo winding from his shoulders all the way down to just past his pelvic bone proof of that? He could feel the dragon moving, knowing just how close its mate was, yet it was still out of reach.

"Oh my god, that is rich!" Draco exclaimed, before holding his stomach in laughter. "It makes so much sense. When you gave back my wand…you were going to do it, weren't you? Kiss me, I mean? You're a fucking queer for me, and you know that there is no way I would ever return your feelings. I have a mate, fag, and you will never be it." Draco hissed, and Harry's whole body curled away from the hurtful words as Draco left the compartment with a whirl.

Harry's heart died a little, and he wondered if it would actually be worth it to let himself die naturally…

/

Ever since the end of the war, things had been weird for Draco Malfoy. He was alive, and his family was alive, and that in itself was a miracle, but things were…off.

It all started off that night.

Draco had come into his inheritance on his 17th birthday. Yes, he was supposed to be a pureblood and technically that had tainted him, but in pureblood society, the more beautiful you were the farther you could get. People were naturally drawn to Veela's, and no one truly could tell, so in the scheme of things, it wasn't a huge deal.

As long as Draco wore the ring on his finger, his instincts were suppressed enough that he would be unable to find his mate. Which meant Draco could do what he like to do best: fuck.

But ever since the war, ever since the night it ended, there was a dream that kept floating around his head.

He had finally received the dream of what his mate would look like.

 _It had started off as a normal dream, he was sitting by the lake by the school, the day perfect and clear, when he felt a presence behind him. And it was intoxicating. He felt arms wrap around his neck, a nose gliding up the curve of his neck and he let himself release a low growl in the back of his throat at his submissive and he felt a delicious shudder run down their spine. Those hands unbuttoned his shirt buttons, leaving small kisses on the side of his neck, so soft it was like they weren't even there._

 _Once the buttons were done the shirt was quickly shrugged off and those hands began to explore all the exposed skin available._

 _Draco reached around, bringing the figure around and holding them so close, breathing in the scent that set his every cell on fire. His hands began an exploration of their own._

 _But something was…wrong. Submissives were supposed to display all the characteristics the Dominants liked best. He wanted more curves, more of a butt, longer hair._

 _He wanted them to be feminine, to look soft and yielding, while he looked sharp and commanding._

 _With another low growl, he lunged towards that tan neck, gripping the inky black strands that got longer and longer by the moment. He violently marked that perfect neck, so everyone knew whose property this body was. His lips got higher and higher until they reached an angular jaw and two pink lips, the bottom on trapped between straight, white teeth to keep those pathetic mewls inside._

" _That certainly won't do now, will it, love? Let me hear you," Draco commanded and he saw those eyes peek up at him through long lashes. Green. Vibrant, vivid green stared up at him innocently. God they were beautiful. A breathless moan was released as his mate got the full effects of his dominance, and Draco reveled in it. In knowing that this beautiful creature in front of him knew who he belonged to. Knowing this was_ _ **his**_ _no matter what._

 _No one could take them away._

 _They couldn't leave him._

 _He kissed them hard, until he tasted the metallic tang of blood enter his mouth. He could feel their hands digging into his skin, a faint twinge of pain there, but certainly not in the forefront of his mind._

 _He released their lips with a messy pop and yanked that hair back hard, earning a faint cry._

" _Suck bitch," Draco demanded, and they listened, like the good little girl they were, carefully unbuttoning Draco's pants to get access. Draco gripped that long hair tighter, impatience getting the best of him. "I don't think I told you to take your dear sweet time, I believe I told you to suck my cock. So I would recommend getting to that or fucking leave."_

 _The once cautious movements got more frantic, and if Draco had been paying any attention maybe he would have seen the tremor in those hands, or the scarring on the top of those beautiful hands, or the lack of breasts, but at the moment Draco was simply concerned about cumming. The rest seemed trivial._

 _Once the first few hesitant licks were taken to Draco's cock, he lost any semblance of control, shoving that head down until the person beneath him was choking and gagging. But Draco didn't care. The person sucking (gagging, whatever) on his cock was his property. He didn't give a single shit if they were having a hard time, if anything, they should be getting used to it. The second Draco found them, this was going to be how he expected to wake up_ _ **every day.**_

 _The closer he got, the harder and faster he shoved that pretty raven haired head down, until finally he gave an especially deep thrust and came down that silky throat, moaning as he did so. They stayed like that for a moment, before his mate lifted herself up, shoulders shaking and tears coming down in thick rivers._

 _Draco was at a loss for words. He reached a hand out almost involuntary to comfort the form in front of him and they flinched. They_ _ **flinched**_ _. Rage bubbled up in Draco's stomach. His mate was ruining this moment. It was_ _ **supposed to be romantic and she is fucking crying.**_

" _Stop crying already. Merlin, are you going to be one of_ _ **those**_ _?" Draco hissed out angrily, and those green eyes opened to look at him for the last time, before everything started to blur around the edges._

" _Wait!" Draco cried, something bubbling in his chest at the thought of his mate leaving him, especially while they were fucking crying._

But before he could do anything, he woke up.

His was covered in his own semen, like some teenage boy. He was bothered by the fact that his mate had been crying. Had he made her cry? What the hell had he managed to do to make her cry before she ever said a word to him? Whatever. She would be learning her place when he finally got a hold of her.

But Draco couldn't get the picture of that crying face out of his mind as he went through everything. He thought of them when he fucked one of the many girls he had managed to get into his bed. He thought of them when the ministry raided his house, taking things that had been in the family for generations. He thought of them when he and his family had been thrown in the dungeons of the Ministry as all of them awaited trial, being told that there was no way they could escape Azkaban. That there was no way his father wouldn't be Kissed.

And as he sat in at his trial, and watched Harry Potter defend _him,_ defend his _family_ , defend his _actions_ , that was the only time he didn't think of his mate. Maybe his mate was a Potter, because the color of Potter's hair was almost identical. It wouldn't be a bad thing. They were a bit of a dying family line, but their blood was pure. It would be a match that his father would surely approve of even if it meant that whoever he was to spend the rest of his life with was, even distantly, technically related to Potter.

And then there was the _incident._

It had been after his father's trial. Because of Potters testimony, his mother was just put on house arrest, he was able to attend his last year of Hogwarts, and as long as he behaved he would be done with any sort of restrictions after he graduated.

And his father, who was a known Death Eater, a known advocator, had endangered students, supported the wrong side of the war, and all around had done horrible things, had avoided the Kiss. He was sentenced to five years in Azkaban, all because of Harry fucking Potter.

And then Potter did the last unspeakable thing.

Draco had been leaning against a wall outside the courtroom, long after his father's trail was over. He had made his goodbye quick, because he knew that his mother needed more time with his father than he did. So he was waiting, when he heard footsteps. Potter moved toward him slowly, almost hesitantly, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

"What do you want Potter?" Draco asked, exhausted from his thoughts over the past few weeks and the many sleepless nights he had faced. Potter stopped, looking up at him for the first time and knocking the breathe out of his lungs when he say the color of his eyes. It was that perfect green, so vibrant it almost looked like they glowed. Draco growled at the thought. Potter was _**not his mate**_ he just had characteristics that reminded him of her. He needed to get his instincts in control.

"I-I…" he started, but seemed to stop, biting his lip so harshly Draco was sure it drew blood. He watched as he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and met Draco's eyes again. "This is yours."

He held out his hand, and what was in it made Draco's heart stop. His wand. The wand he felt like he hadn't seen in years. He had been using his mothers, and with everything going on, he hadn't even had time to miss the Hawthorn wand. He reached out hand, and took the wand, his fingers brushing against Potter's in a way that made a gasp escape his lips. It had to just be his magic readjusting to his wand that was the only _reasonable_ explanation. Potters stupid, jade eyes looked at him expectantly, and he took a step forward, as if wanting something from Draco. There was something in those eyes, something Draco didn't know about, but he certainly didn't want to think about any longer.

He took a few steps back, a grimace forming on his face.

"Thanks. Could have just owled it to me _days ago_ but I guess you never have been the smartest. For being the fucking _Boy-Who-Lived_ you sure are dim. Good thing you have that little Weaslette enamored with you, because no one else will ever want you. Without her, you will die alone, because there is no one else would could ever possibly deal with you. I know I would never be able to. " Draco drawled cruelly, knowing that it was harsh for someone who had just given something so precious to him back, but just so fucking angry at those eyes looking up at him with _that_ expression.

He whirled around angrily just as the door opened, revealing his nearly-ready-to-have-an-emotional-breakdown-but-hoping-to-make-it-home-because-that-was-the-Pureblood-way mother. He put a hand around her shoulder, and she nearly collapsed against him. He turned his head subtly, just barely catching the expression on Potters face out of the corner of his eyes, and upon seeing it, gripping his wand in a white-knuckled grip until he made it to the apparition point of the Ministry and sent them back home.

That interaction stayed in his mind until the day he boarded the train to take him to Hogwarts again.

Then he found out Potter was _gay._ Oh god, he had wanted to kiss Draco that day outside the courtroom. He _wanted_ Draco in _that_ way. He couldn't believe that. Potter had most like done everything to try and get in his **pants!** As if he would ever stoop to that level.

But in the back of his mind, something nagged him. That hopelessness in those green eyes had seemed so _familiar._ The way Potter looked at him was so strange. It was a way he had never seen anyone look at him before except for his… he wasn't even going to compare them. They were on completely different levels. He was the fucking Savoir of the Wizarding World. He could get over his stupid crush. It wasn't Draco's fault he was gorgeous.

So why did his heart feel weird when he looked around the Great Hall, tables full and first years getting sorted, and he didn't see Potter?

/

If Harry had been weaker than he was, maybe he wouldn't have been able to open the portrait to the entrance of the Last Year dorms. He might be sick and dying from his rejection _and_ his magic being drained, but all that had managed to do is make wandless magic that much easier to him. He was a powerful wizard, he knew that, otherwise he would already be dead.

But Harry couldn't fucking go into the Great Hall. He couldn't watch those fucking first years get sorted. He couldn't fucking deal with Ron and Ginny and Hermione and all the things he couldn't tell them and that they certainly didn't understand. And lastly, he couldn't deal with Draco _fucking_ Malfoy and his horrible words and his rejection.

But I guess, that would only mean the process would be quicker.

He walked through the commons room, up the stairs until he reached the very top, and walked towards the very last room at the end of the hall and opened it.

Harry had come back to Hogwarts to help rebuild. McGonagall had found him here on many occasions, and had hinted to the fact that Harry could get placed in this room. It was so far up, and the window showed a view of the Forbidden Forest and the Lake where he had first met Draco in a dream…

He didn't want to think about that right now. He stripped from his robes, falling on the bed and closing the curtains around him. He knew he should take some of the potions his Healer said he would need in order to keep himself alive as long as possible. He knew he should be down in the Great Hall, because he knew there would be questions asked. He knew he should be doing everything but moping in a room that possibly wasn't his, but here he was, and he wasn't going to be leaving until the sun rose again.

He let those glamour's fall away, his hair falling in disheveled strands all around him and falling softly down his back. And with a choked groan, wings sprouted from his back, showing just how sick he really was. What should have been beautiful white wings, had horrible black creeping through them, starting where they connected to Harry's back, and inching its way out. He let them cover him, wishing if he wasn't going to be a _normal Veela_ (if there even was such a thing) that he could at least not be dying (he wasn't sure he was actually wanted that, but he would like the option). But things were never easy for him.

Hermione knew of his 'attraction' (that felt like such a weak word compared to how he felt. Plus, he was 99% sure that if Draco wasn't his mate he wouldn't give a shit about the git). Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family seemed to have disowned him. He was dying now. Draco had rejected him _**again**_ and all he wanted to do is cry but that hollowness inside of him just ached too much for him to take the energy to do so. He flicked his wrist a few times, casting a silencing spell and a spell to make sure the curtains stayed close no matter what, and closed his eyes.

And all sorts of thought floated around his head before he fell asleep, tucked under his black and white wings. Like, if this was how his first day back was, would it get worse? Would Hermione figure everything out? Would he even get to live to see the end of the school year?

But before he could even start to look for answers he fell asleep, away from the life that seemed to give him nothing but problems.

/

 **Hello! This is my first attempt at mxm for one of my favorite couples. This story will be mature, so that's just a warning**. **I would love to hear what you guys have to say.**


	2. Chapter 2-Tattoo's and Promises to Break

Harry had grown used to waking up with his wings wrapped around him. It was a comforting weight that made him feel safe, even if just for a moment. Veela's were nesters by nature, but Harry wasn't at home. He couldn't take all the pillows and blankets from around his house, drag his mattress onto the floor, and build the nest he so desperately wanted to just to feel a little bit safer in this environment that was once so familiar and now seemed so foreign.

But Harry's eyes snapped open when he realized there was another presence in the room.

Draco.

He had never forced his wings back so fast, the motion causing a sharp pain to shoot up his back. He set the glamours in place, before opening up the curtain.

Draco looked absolutely beautiful. But that was a given. Harry spent far more time then he was willing to admit thinking about just that. What more also pretty obvious was that Draco was livid, anger rolling off him in waves and making it very hard for Harry not to comfort his mate.

Before Harry's feet even hit the floor, Draco was there, standing in front of him, grey eyes stormy in their anger.

"Let's set some ground rules, Potter," Draco hissed, causing Harry's heart to restrict painfully. "I know you have some queer crush on me, but for some god forsaken reason, we are supposed to be roommates. You don't get to look at me, talk to me, or try any weird shit. I can't get in trouble, and I'm pretty that beating the living shit out of the great Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Fucking-Die would be considered getting in trouble. So just leave me alone."

God, the rejection hurt worse and worse each time, slithering around his heart and constricting tightly, until Harry didn't feel like he could breathe. He nodded his head, not meeting Draco's eyes. He could feel the blondes stare lingering on him, probably wondering why he wasn't fighting back, but all Harry could think about was when they first met in that dream. How Draco had had no consideration for him. How he had made him cry and mocked him for it.

Harry felt bittersweet about everything. Draco had rejected him, but if he had accepted him would life be worth living? Being a slave to the one you gave your heart and soul to only to get nothing in return? To be nothing more than Bellatrix was to Voldemort, pining for more yet receiving nothing other than orders until one of you died (it was worse in Harry's case because when one partner in a bonded Veela pair died, the other followed).

"I understand. I'll leave you alone. Might not be here very often anyways, I guess." Harry responded quietly, scratching the back of his head and almost missing the long locks that were now cropped short to his head like they used to be.

Draco just turned and left, leaving that empty hole inside Harry again that he was so utterly used to.

Harry got, showering quickly to clear his head and redressing before he left for the Great Hall for breakfast. Ever since things had started, his appetite had decreased and it meant that Hermione had made it her mission to stuff Harry as full as possible whenever she had the chance. His steps were slow, and he was lost in thought, when he bumped into a dark-cloaked figure.

"Watch it, Potter," sneered a familiar voice.

Harry looked up into the dark eyes of the old potions professor as he stared down at him, sneer in place. The first time he had seen him, he had actually hugged him, much to Snape's displeasure. He just couldn't believe that he had lived. He might be questionable in his action (and morals), not to mention a down right asshole on a good day, but he was flawed in a way that comforted Harry. Snape was the most human, the most understanding of errors made, the most similar in understanding everything that Harry had went through, before the war and after.

But god, he was still a raging dick.

But there was just something about the professor today, and the way he seemed to be looking into Harry's soul (the bastard probably was), that just broke Harry today.

And he found himself sitting on the ground in the middle of the hallway, face in his hands, trying to contain himself from pulling his hair out.

"You're different. You have been different since the end of the war. What is going on." It wasn't a question, it was a command.

"I'm dying."

"Stop being dramatic, Potter, I certainly don't have time for your games today."

Harry looked up at him, the figure looming above him leaning his weight on a cane that he needed for his mobility, and smiled. "If I was joking, then that would a pretty bad one, even for me, eh, Snape?"

The look on the professor's face was the closest thing Harry had ever seen to concern.

"Explain."

"It long and complicated and has about three other backstories you need to know in order to get the full effect of it. I'd prefer not to."

Snape didn't even bother responding, instead he grabbed one of Harry's elbows and _dragged_ the boy towards his office, until Harry finally managed to get to his feet and follow behind. Once they were in his office, Harry was deposited down on a small sofa that he immediately realized smelled like Draco and laid his head on one of the pillows to take in the scent.

Harry wasn't starting to feel weirder and weirder. Almost like he was high, but not quite.

"Potter. Tell me."

"Where do you want me to start, me wanting to fuck someone I will never have, or the bird shit?" Snape's dark eyes bore into him now, and Harry knew that he wasn't going to go along with Harry's sarcasm and pick.

"I'm a rejected Veela who is dying. When I died to take the Horcrux out of me, it had become so embedded into me that removing it ripped into my magical core, causing a massive leak. This awakened my dormant creature blood, and nature was trying to find a solution to the problem. That solution was giving me a mate to bond to, which would in turn fix that leak and keep me alive. The only problem was they rejected me. So now I'm bound to die either from my magic draining from me, or wasting away from my rejection."

Harry had never known the Potions master to take so much time to think before he replied.

"There has to be something you can do to stop your magic from draining."

"The doctor gave me a potion that I'm supposed to take, but it isn't a cure, it's simply something to slow the process, and it hardly even does that. I will die and there is really nothing you can do about it."

"Your mate, who is it? Are they human or Veela?"

"Veela. And I'm not telling you."

"Potter, now really isn't the time for your games. Who is she?"

Harry was silent, looking at the Potions Master with those bright eyes that he knew reminded the man of his mother.

"It's a boy, isn't it?"

Harry just nodded, looking away, loving how every inch of this couch was covered in Draco's scent.

"It is imperative for me to know this information, Potter, you have to tell me."

"I'm not going to," Harry said childishly, his head starting to feel lighter and lighter until it was almost like he was floating.

"Are you drunk?" Snape asked incredulously.

"I-I feel weird," Harry supplied, curling up on the couch, pillow in his grip as he curled into himself.

"Did you encounter your mate today?" Snape asked, getting up from the chair he had been sitting on.

"Mhmm, he was a real dick today."

"Did he tell you to do something?"

"To stay away from him and leave him alone."

"Merlin, do I really have to be the one to do this?" Snape asked incredulously. "Potter, you need to take whatever glamours you have on yourself off and let your wings out."

"No!" Harry yelled, pain starting to bubble up in his chest with every second that passed.

"Potter! You need to do it now!"

"I'm not doing it! You can't make me!" Harry cried. He had already told the Professor way too much information that he shouldn't know. He couldn't let him know that his godson was his mate. He couldn't let him know just how progressed the leak inside him was. He didn't was him to see his ugly wings.

"Do it now!" Snape commanded, and something inside Harry submitted immediately, but the rest of him grew angry. Before another word could be spoken the windows shatter, along with other glass around the room, leaving Snape wide eyed.

Harry's body was shaking, and he felt tired, so tired. All he wanted to do is find his mate and fall asleep next to him.

Snape was lifting him off the couch before another word could be said, and Harry just clung to the pillow that smelled like Draco even harder.

Harry could hardly keep his eyes open as Snape carried him somewhere. He wasn't sure where, but it was darker, and warmer, than his office.

He was laid on a something warm and soft, and he realized he was in the Potion Masters room, in his…nest?

"You're one too?"

"Obviously. I have very, very little Veela blood in me, so I'm not flowing and beautiful, but I don't think that would suit me very well. I don't want my refection to remind me too much of Lucius." If Harry had been in the right state of mind, he would have realized that the way Snape said that name was…soft. And creepy. "Never mind that, drink this." He shoved a potion towards Harry's mouth, and Harry parted his lips to drink it. It tasted like sunshine, with a slightly bitter edge to it. Immediately, Harry felt his glamours fall away, his long hair falling on the pillows and blankets and his form changing to meet Draco's standards: soft and…feminine…

It was the wings that Harry fought against the most. He knew the potion was taking its effects, he knew his instincts were wanting to free his wings to form a barrier around him to protect him from the unknown Veela in the room, but he didn't want Snape to see the just how damaged he was. No wonder Draco didn't want him, he was just damaged goods.

With a small cry escaping from Harry's lips, his wings freed himself, cloaking him from harm.

Harry could feel blood starting to trickle from his wings, where they broke through his skin between his shoulder blades. He could hear the sharp intake of breathe from Snape as he took in the damage. Harry just curled up tighter, protecting himself from Snape's judgment, from the horrid truth, from the world that just took and took from him until there was nothing left to give.

Snape wiped away the blood gently, with a tenderness that Harry had never know the Potions Master possessed.

"In Veela standards….you're very beautiful."

"He wanted me to be a girl. I could tell. I'm nothing more to him then something to make him ejaculate, he proved that during our first dream encounter. He made me do…that…and then he laughed at me for crying. He's a prick."

"You don't get to choose who your mate is. Life would be much easier if you could. Save you from so much suffering." Snape's voice was distant, the look on his face showing longing for a single moment before it was covered by the usual mask that he kept in place. "You have extensive damage to yourself. I don't know how long your Healer gave you, so I don't know if it has progressed, but it is looking rather fatal."

Harry lifted his head and looked at his wings. What he saw left him speechless. The black…the black on his wings had _grown._ It had been inching towards, but there was a large part that had previously been snowy white, that was now black as night. Harry turned his head farther, to an almost unnatural angle, and he saw black veins going towards his wings.

"How long did your Healer say you had?"

"He said I was supposed to be able to graduate. He said I might have a few years, due to the strength of my magical core but this is bad…it didn't look like this before I came to Hogwarts. It's getting worse...fast."

"Your mate, you have interacted with him, has he rejected you in any way?"

"He makes sure every time he sees me he rejects me in _every way,_ so it's not like it's something new."

"You must not know very much about your own species. Veela's have a very low threshold for rejection. We need our mates to live. If they die before me meet them, then there will be no long term effects, except that longing that will never go away, but if you meet your mate after your inheritance, you need them to live. In the case of rejection, which are rare, the rejected mate wastes away, and the other mate is usually sent into a fury of some sort. What usually ends up happening in those cases, is when the Veela part takes over, it will go search for its mate and fully bond, forcing the broken bond to become whole again. If that doesn't happen, the rejected mate will die and the one who rejected their mate will never know true happiness, nor will they be healthy as other Veela's due to the nature of the creatures. They need someone else, or they never feel whole and happy. If your mate keeps rejecting you, your Veela blood will just keep accelerating the process, meaning you will be dying quicker."

"How long do you think I have?" Harry knew his voice sounded hollow.

"At this rate, you won't make it until the end of the year. If he keeps rejecting you like this, it will only be a matter of time."

Harry's whole life was a shit hole, he had known that for a long time. But he had expected peace after defeating Voldemort. He had given up his childhood, his innocence, to fight that war, and that was never something he regretted, but he just wanted to live a life that was at least somewhat _normal._

The Fates didn't seem satisfied with that.

"I need to know who they are if I am going to be able to help you."

"I won't tell you. He doesn't know it's me, and you will go about the business of telling him."

"What do you mean he doesn't know? How can that be possible? If he is rejecting you, then he has to know you are his mate unless…"Snape stopped. Harry knew that if it had been anyone else besides Snape, they would have never been able to figure it out, but Snape knew Harry. Snape also knew Draco, the only person who really had the guts to insult, or reject, Harry.

"Draco." He said.

Harry just huddled into a ball. "He made it pretty clear that he doesn't want me. He also made it clear that he doesn't want a queer, so let's just end the story here."

"I taught him bett-"

"It doesn't matter what you taught him. It doesn't matter that we are compatible, or that there has always been something between us that neither of us talk about. I have a dick, he doesn't want that. You can't convince him otherwise, and there is no use in wasting energy doing it. You won't tell him that I'm dying, and you won't tell him I'm his mate, or you don't get to leave this room."

Snape gritted his teeth. "I don't have to promise you shit, Potter. He deserves to know."

"He has already made it clear he doesn't want me, nothing will change that."

Snape was silent, deep in thought. Harry was just so _tired._ He just woke up and his day was already ruined by the one he loved most. This was his reality, day in and day out from now on, and it was absolutely exhausting.

Thank god they didn't have to start class for another day. Harry could just sleep and be left alone.

"You organs will start having issues within the next three months, and that is if Draco doesn't keep rejecting you. If he does..." Harry knew the end of the sentence. The more rejection he faced, the faster he would deteriorate. "Because of your magical core, you might have troubles controlling your magic. You seem pretty in tune with it, so casting shouldn't be a problem, the intensity of the spell might be. Not to mention because of your creature blood and the fact that your magical core is cracked, your emotions might be a fair bit destructive. Getting too upset should probably be avoided."

"Please, Snape, we know that Draco loves nothing more than getting a rise out of me, but fine, if it reassures you, I'll tell you I'll be careful."

Snape's glare was hard. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"I assume Granger and Weasley know, then? If need be, I can pass potions along to them?"

"They don't know anything. Well, Hermione knows I'm bent for Draco, but that really isn't a huge deal in the scheme of things. They will just fuss, it's better to keep them in the dark this time."

"You'll get to the point that you won't even be able to go to classes, so they will find out, Potter."

"I'm aware of that. But then I can play ignorance. So just leave me alone on this."

Snape rolled his eyes. Just like the Gryffindor boy to try and be noble about the process. Merlin, Potter always seemed to know how to give him a headache in a painfully short amount of time.

"Whatever. I don't even care anymore. Stay here and sleep. I'll have lunch waiting for you along with two other potions you should take." Snape got up to leave, when Harry's hand around his wrist stopped him.

"You won't tell Draco, or you won't be leaving this room."

The look in Harry's eyes was so much like Lily's it almost hurt. That haunting green stared up at him, and broke down every defensive wall he had.

"I give you my word." Snape finally replied in a resigned voice. Harry searched his face, and seemed to believe him. He curled up in the blankets, and before Snape had left the room he was asleep.

And all Snape could think about was the pain his godson would endure because of his arrogance.

And how Harry Potter was a vortex of problems, and it wasn't even noon and he needed a drink already.

/

The Ravenclaw under him was far too loud for his liking, but she had great tits and was one of the less condescending out of the house. She just kept wailing out how good it was, and it was making it _less than fulfilling_ for Draco Malfoy. But a willing body _was_ a willing body, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste.

So he didn't.

He shoved her head into the pillow to muffle her wretched noises and worked himself until he could feel that coil building in his stomach, and he let it go.

He laid there looking up at the ceiling as she chattered about classes, her friends, the weather, and whatever else seemed to come to her mind.

Draco turned to look at the blonde, and he found her looks less than satisfying. Even with her body, there was something to be desired. He wanted _her._

He had wanted her ever since that dream and it drove him fucking crazy.

Without another word, Draco sat up, running a hand through his mussed hair. He _Accio-ed_ his clothes, and started putting them on.

"You're not going to stay?" the blonde asked. Draco turned his head to look at her. She was a pretty thing, big brown eyes and long blonde hair. She had a killer figure. She was someone that, months ago, Draco would have had no problem keeping as a regular fuck. But now, nothing fulfilled him like it used to. Sex made him feel gross, even as he was cumming. It all just felt wrong. Like he was doing something he wasn't supposed to and it pissed him off to no end.

Just because he had a mate, doesn't mean they get to control his life.

That was not how it was supposed to be. Draco was in charge. She did what he said, but there was no way he was going to change his lifestyle for her. If she could keep up with his sex drive, great, then maybe he wouldn't need all the extras, but if not, well what did she expect? Draco wasn't going to be deprived because she couldn't keep up with him.

"Maybe next time," Draco said, giving the girl a charming smile that made her visibly melt. She nodded her head happily, and laid back down.

Draco was walking around the halls, but he had no true destination in mind. That was how it seemed to be as of late. He wanted to go somewhere, but was unaware of where that was. He ended up in front of his godfather's office.

As his hand went to open the door, the door swung open, startling the blonde and the Potions Master.

"Draco." His godfather's tone was clipped, an obvious sign he was displeased.

"Hey Sev," Draco said cheekily. "Can I come in?"

"No, I have company and they aren't feeling well. If you want to talk you will have to follow me to the kitchens while I get some food."

"I didn't think you had it in you to get laid." His godfather sent him a harsh glare at this comment causing Draco to have to try to stifle a smile.

They walked in silence for some time as they made their way to the kitchens.

"Have you had your first dream encounter yet?" Severus asked, making Draco's heart freeze in his chest. Why could his godfather be asking him about that? The one thing he really _did not_ want to talk about. He bet his godfather knew this and just wanted to make him uncomfortable.

"Yes."

"Who is your mate?"

Draco rolled his eyes at his godfather's ways. Always so blunt and straight to the point. It got irritating, though Draco will admit that it was one of his favorite traits. Sev was never fond of small talk.

"I don't know. She has dark hair and green eyes." Draco didn't want to talk about his dream anymore.

"How did they dream go? Usually you are able to exchange names, it makes it much easier to find each other. Do you know her name?"

"No." Draco was starting to feel angry and defensive. She was his, what he did wasn't wrong. Maybe a little much for their first meeting, but in the end, his mate was supposed to satisfy his desires, and she did.

"Why do you sound like you want to drop this subject, Draco, did you do something stupid?"

"I didn't do anything!" Draco snapped back. Snape turned to him, eyes blazing.

"Then why do you look guilty."

Draco looked away quickly. He hated the fact that his godfather could read him so well.

"You don't know anything about mates, you don't even have one!"

Snape's lip snarled. "That proves just how much you know then, boy. You walk around like you know everything, just like your father did and look where he ended up!"

"Don't you dare talk about my father like that! He fucked up, and he has to pay the consequences, but that doesn't mean that he is a bad person!"

"I never said he was Draco, I was implying his stupidity in his obvious inability to teach his son not to make the same mistakes as him! Look at you, Draco, walking around here like you own the place. Sleeping with girls all the time hoping they make you feel better yet knowing that that void inside you is for a reason. Have you ever stopped to think that you sleeping around with all those girls might be hurting your mate? What if they have already met you? What if they are sickened by how much of a whore you are? What if they decide that they can do better and reject you? Then you will be alone like you always feared, with no one to take care of you or love you. And you will die without ever knowing what it is like to love someone more than you love yourself. Just because you grew up being taught that you were above the rules, doesn't mean you are. I would have thought that getting that brand on your arm would have taught you that lesson."

Draco opened his mouth, only to close it again.

"You don't know anything."

"You always say that. And yet, I know more than you do. Ever wonder why I am always able to ask the exact questions you don't want to answer?"

Draco was silent. His mind was a mess. He was just so _tired_. After the war, after the trials, after all the hate mail, the howlers, getting screamed at wherever he went, he had just wanted to feel good about himself. Sex _felt_ good. Knowing people wanted him _felt_ good. It built his self-esteem back from the crumbles it had been since his sixth year. Why couldn't his godfather understand that?

Why did he have to overcomplicate things?

"My mate is my business, and you can kindly keep your fucking nose out of it."

Snape looked like he wanted to say something. The way he was staring at Draco was making him feel like there was terrible news that he wanted to tell him but wouldn't.

"Don't mess up your only chances with your mate like your father did, Draco. If not for their sake, if not for your sake, then do it for my sake."

Before Draco could even ask why the hell his father would have a mate and what he was talking about, Severus was gone in a whirl of dark cloaks and mystery, leaving Draco angry, confused, and with an all-around headache.

As a bitter taste settled in his mouth at the lack of trust his godfather had in him, he went to find the blonde Ravenclaw for round two, ignoring that nausea that settled into his stomach at the thought.

/

It took some time to realize why Harry had started to feel so bad as he laid in Snape's nest. _Draco_ was having _sex_ with someone who was _definitely not him._ And no matter what Harry told himself, the numbness didn't even begin to stop the feeling of betrayal that welled in Harry, making his eyes suddenly seem to full.

'You won't fucking cry, Potter. He just laughed at you the last time you did it. You won't cry for Draco Malfoy any longer,' Harry told himself. He knew he shouldn't. By now, he should know that to be Draco Malfoy's mate meant one thing and one thing alone: you weren't good enough, and you were going to be in pain for that very reason.

To love the enigma that was Draco Malfoy you had to be a complete masochist.

Right when he started was about to fall back asleep after feeling sorry for himself, he felt it again, only this time it was _so much worse._

His whole body felt like it had when he saved Draco from the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. That blistering heat that seemed to be all around him, consuming him. Harry knew he was crying out for help, though he knew that no one but Snape would hear him. It just hurt, yet he was so fucking _hard_ that tears of shame rose to his eyes that he once again fought again.

Nothing, _nothing_ would make him cry any longer.

He felt his nails digging into the skin of his torso, then his neck, then his arms, all drawing thin trains of blood in their wake. The grounded Harry. If he could feel pain, then he knew he was alive. He knew that Draco would cum soon enough and this would end. He knew that this would just be causing more stress on his bond and, before long, he would be dead. You don't really have to worry about rejection when you are dead.

And that comforted him.

Snape found him like that. Staring at the ceiling, lines of blood along his skin and smeared on his fingertips. His expression was so vacant.

"You smell like him." Harry said, gaze never wavering the ceiling, voice a lifeless drone.

Snape seemed a bit startled. He had a tray with food on it in his grip, along with some potions, but he _had_ stopped for a drink (whatever, he had four drinks and it wasn't even lunch, but if you had to deal with the two most difficult people in the whole world, you would surely be smashed far sooner than a man with his control), but he hadn't been gone for more than 45 minutes.

"He found me as I was walking out. We might have gotten into a little spat by the kitchens. I didn't mention that you were his mate, or that you were sick, I just told him his actions might have consequences. Draco isn't really one to take criticism well."

"More like he is a stubborn arse who would rather cut off his own toes then admit he is wrong."

There is silence in the room for a little bit longer.

"He just got done having sex. I started to feel weird the first time because he was doing it." Harry turned his gaze to Snape for the first time. "Guess that means we probably won't have to worry about it happening again, at least not today."

Snape's heart constricted at his tone. At the hopelessness he was so familiar with. At the fact that the boy still had the ability to be sarcastic. When this happened to him, he hadn't talked for days, trying to starve himself to death in the corner of that crappy apartment.

But Lucius was selfish. He wouldn't let Severus die. He loved the man too dearly to watch him fade, even if every moment of his life was pain watching the man he loved, his mate, have a wife and a son when that could have been _him._

How badly Snape wanted it to be him under Lucius instead of Narcissa, no matter how lovely and wonderful she was. He wanted his mate to be his, to wear his ring, no hers.

"I'm not scared of dying." Harry said, breaking Snape out of his train of thought.

"You have died before, that doesn't really surprise me," the Potion Master drawled as he set the tray in front of Harry, holding his gaze and motioning his head towards the potions sitting on the tray.

"I worry that he won't take care of himself. I worry that he won't be happy though, though in the end I guess it really isn't my business."

"Draco just wants to be loved unconditionally, no matter the mistakes he makes or the things he says. He fears ending up like me." Harry was quiet for a very long time, his mind whirling. Draco had at least had love during his childhood. He grew up wanted. He grew up around people that wanted to take care of him, to show him the beautiful things about the world, to see him become the best version he could he. Harry grew up starved and hated, never knowing what it was like to feel affection until he met Ron and his family.

"I just don't think he realizes how much worse it could be." Was Harry's response. Snape nodded, remembering his own childhood. How jealous he had been of his precious Lily for the family she had, even if her sister was cruel and envious. He had never wanted anything more than to feel that feeling, but it was something he wouldn't be able to feel again. "But then again he sees the world with rose colored glasses; never able to see the red flags until it is already too late. Then he doesn't know who he should blame."

Harry turned to Snape. "Make sure he takes care of himself, okay? And when he goes to look for me, well, the person he thinks is me, you should just tell him that I probably died shortly after our dream."

"He won't accept it. He loves you, in his own way. It's demented, possessive, and at times dark, but Draco has been different since after the war. He's still trying to recover."

"I know what that is like." Harry said. "Honestly, I try not to think about it. That I took someone's life, I mean. Even if he was evil, his life was incredibly hard and if I had been different, I could have been just like him. The only difference is I have the ability to love; something that he didn't have. I can't imagine how painful that would be, to never know love."

"Of course you would empathize with a murderer. Such a bleeding heart you have, Gryffindor. He deserved what happened to him, and that is that. There is nothing more to say about it."

Harry nodded, picking up on of the potions and swigging it down. You would think that with all the wonders of magic, you could make them taste a little better. He picked at his food for a while as him and the Potions Master sat in a comfortable silence. But Harry has a big mouth, and he just has to ask questions.

"Why aren't you and Lucius together?" At Snape's pained expression, he knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Because there are people who can't be together without consequences, and sometimes those consequences weight is too heavy of a burden to carry with you." Snape said briefly, his eyes alight with pain. Without another word, he turned and was gone, leaving Harry alone in the room again.

He understood far better than Snape gave him credit for. He understood that there are people who might be perfect for each other that will never get the chance to be together because of their status, political stance, or families. He understood that if things had went then way that Harry dreamed about every night, that the world would have thrown a fit about the 'Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World (twice)' and the 'Ex-Death-Eater' being together. They would throw accusations at Draco, slandering everything about him to villainize him.

When they were just two people who were made to be together. It was really that simple.

Harry heaved himself out of the nest, jotting a quick note of thanks and leaving it on the bedside.

It was time to face his day.

That was a little easier knowing it couldn't really get worse.

/

Hermione Granger was many things.

The smartest witch of her age? Maybe.

Emotionally intuitive? Definitely.

A good friend? More than anything.

So she honestly didn't give one flying fuck about who Harry wanted to have sex with. Even if his taste in men is…lacking.

It's not that Draco Malfoy isn't attractive. Merlin, no. He had the face and body of an Adonis, perfectly sculpted to temp anyone who dares to look. But he was lacking in many areas.

Like he seemed completely unable to have a civil conversation with anyone who wasn't in his little group. He was a general ass. He had humiliated and demeaned her and Ron, but more than either of them, he had mocked Harry. He had physically hurt Harry on numerous occasions, hexed him on even more, and had made it his job to make Harry as miserable as possible all through their school years.

Not to mention how _utterly tactless the wanker was_. Your parents are dead? Oh let's make that my go to when it comes to mocking you! Who _**does**_ that?!

Draco Malfoy, that's who.

Hermione had never had such a lack of guilt when it came to punching someone in the face. She had tried to feel bad about it, but just came up empty handed. After all the insults to her and her friends, he deserved it. Not even the war had reined in his sense of entitlement.

Hermione knew that Harry was hurting, and she hoped that he wasn't just trying to save Malfoy from that deep pit of self-loathing he was in. Because she was the first to admit that Harry had an 'I'm-going-to-save-everyone' complex and it was going to be the death of him one day. He needed to work on saving himself before he was going to try to fix anyone else.

Which brought her back to her original thought: Harry was hurting. He was hurting in a way that was more than coming to terms with killing Voldemort. More than mourning the death of his fallen friends and family. More than finding a new normal, discovering his sexuality (whatever that was. Hermione cared little as long as he was happy). There was something _more wrong than usual._ And their usual was pretty fucked up, so that was saying something.

Out of all the people she knew, Harry deserved happiness more than anyone. All he had done his whole life was survive and sacrifice himself for other people. He needed someone who would take care of _him._ Who would be adoring of _him._ Who wanted Harry Potter for Harry Potter, not the 'Boy-who-lived.'

She had let it go when she didn't see Harry at the Sorting Ceremony or the welcoming feast. Malfoy had been incredibly cruel, and sometimes you need to go and lick your wounds before coming back, she got that, but what she couldn't believe was that _Malfoy and Harry had to share a room!_ That was absolutely preposterous! How could McGonagall think that that would ever be a good idea! All they did was _fight_. It was their _thing._ So why couldn't Harry get some peace. She would rather he be roomed with a bitter Ronald, than Malfoy.

But she started to really worry when breakfast flew by and Harry never made an appearance. Harry was definitely one to not take care of himself. After the war, he got pretty bad. He holed himself up in his godfather's house and seemed to break down. He got so thin, his eyes looked so troubled, like he was having this war with himself that he couldn't seem to win. Hermione had really wondered if she should even leave him alone, but he had refused to let Hermione stay.

Then one day, it was gone. All the bitterness, the unclarity, the violent turbulence of thought, all seemed to still and he was more _Harry Potter_ than he had been since it was just him and her in that little tent, curled up together like lovers, yet so much _more than that_.

And as happy as she was that her best friend was back, there was this nagging foreboding in the back of her mind that refused to go away. Harry was…different…his looks almost seemed…off. It was a hard thing to explain, one that she was certain would take far too long. Harry looked like Harry, but it was almost like he shouldn't look like Harry. She wasn't the only one with this opinion. Ron had said something to her once, but it was something he easily wrote off. Hermione had concluded that it might just be a glamour.

The scary part of that conclusion was what was he hiding? He had been so thin, was he really more sickly then she had thought? Was there something wrong with him that he wasn't telling her? That made her panic even more. Harry was supposed to tell her _everything_. Had their relationship changed? Was he going to leave her?

That's when Hermione Granger broke down.

There was nothing unusual about it. Many students broke down anymore, at least the ones that had lived through the battle. It started off with shaking; the fear creeping back up and restricting around your throat.

Hermione dropped to her knees, breathing coming out in short gasps that were definitely not healthy. Neville looked up from his book and rushed over to her side, grabbing her arms.

This was not the right thing to do, not that poor Neville knew that. All Hermione could see was _her._ Black curls hanging around the face that haunted her nightmares as she cackled in that insane way that made Hermione's blood run cold. Those eyes, those dark, soulless eyes looking into her with a burning hatred for something she couldn't control. For the Muggle blood that would always run through her veins.

So she started screaming.

"HARRY! HELP ME, PLEASE!" Neville looked around frantically. Oh god, he had to find Harry right now, but no one had seen him all day. He had checked in his room earlier to see if he was there and just sleeping only to hear some very loud moaning, dirty talk, and creaking from behind closed curtains. Harry _definitely_ wasn't going to be anywhere near the room while Malfoy was screwing someone.

Hermione had started to scratch at him, screaming things he couldn't understand, when the door to the common room flew open and Ron and a group of the Last years came through, Ron included.

"Please help, she just started freaking out!" he hadn't even gotten through the whole sentence when Ron shoved him away in order to take control of the situation. He grabbed Hermione from behind, trapping her arms to her chest and taking her wand and gracelessly chucking it across the room.

"You have to find Harry, nothing else calms her down. I can't control her for very long and using magic just makes the whole situation so much worse. Find him, and bring him here as fast as possible. The rest of you help him!" Ron commanded, as he held his struggling girlfriend as she screamed and screamed, her face wet and red. She looked so terrified.

"HARRRY!" she screamed as the portrait shut and Neville, Ginny, and Luna split up to find Harry.

Neville ran along the corridors, knocking people down in the process. He looked in the Great Hall, the kitchens, Moaning Myrtles bathroom, and he was about to go check in the Astronomy tower when he found him walking out of Snape's office, looking worn.

"Harry…its Hermione…" he hadn't even needed to finish the sentence before Harry went racing down the hall, that scary determination set on his face. When the portrait flew open, objects were levitating, Ron, the poor bloke covered in bloody scratches, was trying to get a grip on Hermione, but she was huddled up, kicking and screaming in pure terror from enemies that were in her head.

"'Mione, look at you, it's okay. I'm here." Harry said in a soft voice. He walked past Ron, dodging objects as he went, and bent down where Hermione was huddled.

He reached out, and she went flying into his arms, bringing her arm, which was a bloodied mess, into view.

"Harry, she's here. I see her. You have to run away, you have to defeat Voldemort so we can be safe again. I won't let her get you, even if it kills me." Hermione sobbed, the conviction in her voice so strong that it touched the heart of everyone in the room.

"She's gone, remember 'Mione? Molly killed her during the Battle. You remember how we went back to her body and we cast curse to make sure. So there was no chance that she could ever come back. Voldemort either. We killed him and now we are all safe." Harry said, tucking the sweaty tendrils of hair behind her ear.

Hermione was just quiet. She didn't reply, just cried and trembled in Harry's arms.

He pulled her arm away from his chest where it was curled, and looked down at it.

"'Mione, what did you do?"

"I can feel her under my skin, Harry. I can feel her evil and I have to _let it out_."

"We can't get rid of it, silly girl. But you know what we should do? We should go into the Muggle world and get matching tattoos. How about that? Matching ones. What do you want to get? A book? A rose? A cat?" Harry joked, his voice so light that it visibly calmed everyone in the room. Luna put a hand on Ron's shoulder, and smiled, swishing her hand and fixing the scratches that adorned all his visible skin.

Hermione didn't laugh, but she looked up at him. Harry just smiled, kissing her forehead so tenderly.

"How about we go to one of the guests rooms, and build a tent, and listen to crappy radio and eat s'mores? Like we used to? We can decide what tattoo we want after you calm down a bit, yeah?" Hermione just nodded.

"Love you, Harry," she murmured against his neck.

"Love you too, 'Mione. Always."

Harry turned to Ron. "Is that alright with you?"

Ron just nodded, letting out a deep sigh. "Don't really have a choice, now do I? She doesn't calm down for anyone but you." He sounded resigned.

"I can stay here or you can come with us, if it bothers you so much. You don't have to believe me when I tell you there is nothing going on between us. We are bonded in a way lots of people aren't used to, I'm aware, but it's not romantic. She's like my sister, and that's that. Nothing more to say. If you don't believe me, that's on you. But I would hope you loved her enough to know that right now, I need to take care of her." Harry's voice was clear and his gaze piercing. Everyone in the room spectating saw the wisdom and finality of his words.

Ron just nodded his head. "Take her. She needs some time with you. We hardly saw you before school started again. Just during the rebuilding. It really stressed her out, you know. She just needs some time with you." Ron said, his eyes glued onto Hermione's form.

"I'll take care of her."

"I know you will, mate."

Something inside Harry softened at the familiar term, while the other half of him bristled slightly. Ron was _definitely_ not his mate. But Harry pushed that down. Of course he wasn't, his mate was standing in the door way, leaning up against it like he was a model, looking so glorious with his hair all tousled, the first three of his buttons undone on his shirt, the hickeys peaking up from the collar of his shirt...

Harry stopped that train of thought before it started. It would only make things worse.

Hermione looped her arms around Harry's neck as he picked her up, unaffected by her weight, and took her out of the commons room as everyone watched. He walked down the hallways, until he reached one of the secret tunnels that led you to Hogsmeade.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asks, her awareness leaking back into her slowly. She was at Hogwarts. The war was over. Bellatrix and Voldemort and most of the other Death Eaters were dead. They couldn't hurt her anymore.

"Since everyone thinks we are fucking, I thought we could go on a date." Hermione giggled. Well, it was more like a soft exhale instead of a giggle, but it was close enough.

"Where are we going?"

"Muggle London of course."

"We can't leave the grounds, Harry, you know they put the Anti-Apparation wards back up after the reconstruction was done."

Harry looked down at her adoringly and smiled slowly. "But I am Harry Fucking Potter." And he Apparated them both away.

When Hermione gained her senses again, they found themselves in an alley. It was dingy, and Harry quickly put Hermione down, wandlessly transfigured her clothes to fit into the crowd (he was only wearing his muggle clothes to begin with), and took her hand.

"Let's get our tattoos first, then deal with the rest later."

Hermione laughed lightly, the sound warming Harry's heart. "This seems impulsive, even for you."

Hermione had never seen Harry look so serious. His eyes took her in, and she felt her hair braid itself and her face felt fresher suddenly. Then he looked away.

"Life is hard, Hermione. For you, for me, for everyone. I don't want to look back and just see some fucked up childhood that didn't end until I killed a maniac. I want some happy memories. I want to do something impulsive. For me." His eyes met hers and it was like he knew a secret she didn't.

"Okay." Was all she said, hugging his arm close to her.

"What should we get?"

Hermione thought. What did she want on her body for the rest of her life? What was a representation of everything they had been through? What would remind her of Harry and herself?

"Beetles and Bard, the book Dumbledore gave me, with the Deathly Hollows symbol on it, but with flowers coming out of it. Lots of color, because we need a little color sometimes. And I want you to get the same Rose on your hand, with lots of color. Everything you touch blooms, Harry, you should always remember that."

Hermione was so sure of that. She could see the flower sitting on the back on Harry's hand, and it just fit him so well, and that meant that Hermione would always be close to him and she loved that. He would always remember he was loved.

Harry gave her one of his dazzling smiles, trying to conceal the terror inside him that this might be one of the last times he could spend the day with her, and they could do what they wanted to. He would just enjoy it while it lasted.

They walked a block over, and came to a tattoo shop. They outside looks a little worn down, but the inside looked bright and cheerful. For a tattoo shop that it. Harry held the door open for Hermione as she felt the jitters gather in her stomach.

There was a great hulking figure turned away from them as they entered.

"One moment," he said in a rough voice.

Harry got this little smile on his face as he stared at the man.

When he turned, his eyes fell on Harry, and widened in shock.

"Harry! How have you been?" the man asked, grinning widely as he came around the counter and gathered Harry close to him, clapping him on the back.

"I've been great. I see the business is doing well, Big D, we came to test your skill. This is my best friend Hermione, and we both need to get some rather nasty scars covered up."

A haunting, guilty look settled in Big D's eyes, that you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't used to that look.

"It's none of those. I told you that is all in the past. It's long forgotten. These are from the war. We met some bad people and we want to move past what they did to us. We would appreciate if you could help us do that with your art." Harry said quietly. Hermione was just confused. Finally, Harry elaborated. "This is my cousin, Dudley, 'Mione, but he prefers Big D."

This was the cousin that tortured Harry, and Harry just _forgave him_. Harry squeezed her hand, a tell-tale sign he would explain things later.

"Hello, I'm Hermione." They shook hands, and he smiled at her, and then they were all sitting around a table like old friends, laughing as Big D took their designs and sketched. Hermione could see that he felt bad about the way Harry was raised, and was trying to make it so they could have a half-way normal relationship. He told Harry about how he was going to get married, and how well the shop was doing. He made them laugh, and Hermione felt almost…normal. Harry always managed to do that. Bring her back from the hell inside her head. Hopefully this could stop it once and for all.

Before long, Hermione was lying in a chair, arm spread and disinfected, and they tattoo gun came down and it all started. She wasn't going to lie, it hurt very badly. Dudley was unsure if they ink would cover up the scar tissue, but god Hermione hoped with everything in her that it did. And when she look down after Big D finished, tears welled up in her eyes.

Her arm was hers again. It wasn't a cruel reminder of Bellatrix, it was hers, and god, it was beautiful. She hugged Big D tightly, and he hugged back awkwardly, and she moved over to the stool to watch as Harry got his done. While she had winced and groaned a bit, Harry acted as though nothing was happening. They talked the whole time and Harry didn't so much as miss a syllable.

"Alright. I'm done. I hope you both like them." He sounded almost nervous. Harry looked down for the first time, and his eyes widened. Because of the boney surface of the top of his hand, the words couldn't be completely hidden. Umbridge had made sure the scar tissue was raised as a pleasant 'reminder.' But his hand was covered in a beautiful rose, so full and blooming that it almost looked alive. The vines wrapped around his wrist a bit, and when Harry turned his wrist a bit, his eyes widened further when he saw a golden snitch hidden amongst them, looking like it was about to dash off his wrist.

"I told him to add that when you went to the loo. I thought you'd like it, since it's your catching hand and all," Hermione said as she smiled at him.

"I love it. You don't know how much we appreciate this, Big D. You did better than either of us could have imagined." Harry reached for his wallet, and Big D started laughing.

"Cousin, if you think you are paying, you can think again. You're family. You don't pay. And I don't want to hear any arguments. I'd love to see you for Christmas. I know you are back in school and stuff, and I am going to have my parents over, but they won't be staying long. You could always come after." He sounded nervous.

"I'd love that. Maybe I can get you to give me another,"

"It won't be as big as that back one you have. I hope to get that level of skill one day." Harry visibly tensed at this, but Big D didn't notice.

"Have a good day!" Hermione said as she waved.

What back piece? Why did Harry not tell her he already had a tattoo? What was it of? When did he get it-?

"Hermione, stop overthinking and please drop it. It's not that big of a deal, but I don't want to talk about it today, okay? Today is about us and new changes, not old ones. Now do you want pizza or Chinese takeaway?"

"Oh god, please let us have Chinese." Hermione pushed that nagging away from the front of her mind and focused on her favorite person once again.

She would have time later to overanalyze that.

They grabbed over fifty dollars' worth of takeout, and Hermione was so happy that she worked out regularly. And before she could say another word, Harry had disapparated them back to the tunnel they had been in before. Hermione just started laughing.

"How do you do that? I thought the wards were in place? You never answered how you were able to do that."

"I said I was Harry Fucking Potter. I do what I want."

"That's not a real answer, that's just you being sassy."

"I might have tweaked the wards to give me a bit more freedom. I am the one who helped put them up, so I made a few adjustments."

"Harry!"

"Hush, I feel like I deserve it." Hermione just rolled her eyes at that response and took his hand as they made their way down the hall. They came to a lovely picture of a little girl playing with a dog, and she just smiled at Harry and opened the portrait for him.

The room was small, just a bed, a few chairs, a desk, and a roaring fire. But it was cozy and it fit the both of them so they didn't care. They spread out their feast of Chinese, and laughed, and told each other stories of their childhood, before they knew they were magical. They told each other about their accidental magic as kids. They turned on the radio and listened to shitty music, agreeing that the muggle world lacked lots of things, but their pop and dance music were both superior. Then they made a ridiculously huge fort. And charmed the 'ceiling' to show the stars.

After they had eaten nearly all the Chinese, they Harry magically conjured up the ingredients for s'mores, and they got sticky and were too full to move, and they both felt happy. So happy. And so glad for the person next to them.

It was Hermione who brought them back to reality.

"I don't know what you are hiding. I don't know why you have feelings for Malfoy when he has proven to be horrible in so many instances. I don't know why you are suddenly a pro at wandless magic. And I don't know what that tattoo that you haven't showed or told me about is, but I am begging you to ask for help if you need it. If you are figuring things out, that's, fine, but if it gets too much, we are here for you. And if Ronald is still being a dick, I'll _always_ be there for you."

"I know 'Mione. I wouldn't be stupid enough to forget." He nudged her gently. "Life is complicated right now, but I know it will get much simpler. But no matter what happens, I need you to always know I'm going to be with you. Just look down at your arm, and don't remember Bellatrix, remember _me._ " The conviction in his voice nearly brought her to tears.

"We'll always be together." She said, pulling his arm and yanking back so they both collapsed on the bed, side by side, hands intertwined.

"Always."

And Harry finally knew the crushing weight of the word.

/

That night, when the whole castle was dark, a raven haired boy stumbled to the bathroom as quietly as he could, leaving his best friend asleep on the bed curled in a protective ball. He closed the door, cast a wordless silencing spell, and the glamours fell away and his wings were, once again, violently ripped from his back, leaving a bloody mess down the back of his tattered shirt. His mate was at it again, he could tell by the unbearable heat, and all the happiness he had felt during the day faded fast and the hurt settled in quickly. Why couldn't he just _stop_? Was it so hard to not have sex?

His stomach suddenly lurched, and he gripped the granite edge of the sink as he started to cough violently until he felt that metallic taste in the back of his throat. He opened his weary eyes to see splatters of blood all around the shining porcelain.

The process was speeding up at a rate Harry could hardly keep up with.

'Are you really that surprised? Your mate has practically defiled the bond, what do you expect?'

He slid down to the floor, darkened wings curled around them, though they couldn't protect him from what he really needed protection from.

He had today to file away for when he got sicker and sicker. He had the rose that covered up some of the pain of the memories of how horrible people could be. He had Hermione until the end.

The only thing he didn't have was Draco Malfoy, and that fact shouldn't disappoint him nearly as much as it did when all the man had caused him today was immense amounts of pain.

Harry looked up at the ceiling, wondering what his family thought of the predicament he had gotten himself into. Thinking of how all his goals had changed in just the span of a few months. Thinking about the good and the bad, and how he wanted to end his life on as many happy notes as possible.

Thinking that he was finally going to live these last few months for himself, not for that would never be able to love him back.

And as he sat there and waited or the euphoria his mate was feeling to finally end so his pain could end, a single tear slipped from his eyes for all the things he would miss out on.

And that was okay.

/

 **Hello! Its chapter two! Thanks for reading this story, as I said it's mature, so if that bugs you this will be a consistent thing. Tell me what you think! Thanks so much.**


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